


Growth, of a Sort

by PieWritesFics



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Body Dysphoria, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Large Breasts, Modern Era, Puberty, anxiety related to body dysphoria, bras are a pain in the ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16835434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieWritesFics/pseuds/PieWritesFics
Summary: In which modern!Hvitserk realizes that having big boobies isn't necessarily very fun for the people they're attached to. Highly self-indulgent, and based heavily on a bad day I was having. Previously posted on my tumblr (triumphantreturnofpies)





	Growth, of a Sort

“Hey, babe?” Hvitserk called from your room. 

“Yeah?”

“This is cute. How come you never wear it?” he asked, coming into the room. 

You looked up from the plans you were writing out, trying to figure out what to box up next, to see your boyfriend holding one of your old bras you hadn’t talked yourself into getting rid of yet. It was black, covered in lace that came up past the cups to mimic a lacy undershirt, and doubled spaghetti straps each adorned with a tiny black bow. It was also, much to your eternal annoyance with your body, something you’d grown out of almost a decade ago. Of course he’d found it while packing your laundry.

“It’s too small,” you replied, looking away and trying not to sound too defensive.

Hvitserk’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the piece, turning the claspe out to see the tag. “It’s a 36DDD.”

“And it’s too small,” you reiterated. Silently, you hoped he wouldn’t push it; he’d only just gotten you to agree to move in with him, you didn’t want something like this to cause a fight while he helped you pack. Your Hvitserk had found a huge sore spot and he didn’t even know it.

His silence caused you to look up again, seeing the look on his face. A cross between confusion and disbelief, and your cheeks burned. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Your snapping startled him. “Like what?”

“That. Like I’m bullshitting you.”

“Princess, I don’t…”

“Go check the ones you know I wear if you don’t believe me.” You didn’t really want him to check, but you needed him to stop looking at you that way, the look people always gave you when they thought about what busty really meant when it came your body. You turned away from him, hiding the mortified tears that had pooled in your eyes from the topic. You heard him take a step in your direction, probably concerned, and snapped, “Go on! Check! I’ll be here.” 

Hvitserk shuffled back into your bedroom. He was in there at least ten minutes, probably going through your entire underwear drawer. Normally you’d find it funny but you knew there were at least three other bras in there that you had outgrown in high school that you hadn’t tossed or donated. You figured some part of your brain hoped to be able to fit into them again one day, even though genetics clearly gave you the middle finger in that area. When he came back, he found you sitting where he’d left you, head resting in your hands with your palms pressed against your eyes, and he knew you were trying not to cry in front of him.

Heart aching a bit, he sat himself next to you on the couch and snaked his long arms around you, pulling you into his lap and nuzzling into your hair. He held you like that, rubbing gently at your arms and sides for several minutes until he felt your breathing even out. Finally Hvitserk spoke, words soft against your neck. “Is this why you only let me buy you panties when I said I wanted to get you some more lingerie?”

It wasn’t a question you’d expected, but it was so entirely Hvitserk that you felt the last of your tension leave you, relaxing fully against his warmth at your back. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Nothin’ fits in most stores, and shopping online is impossible with these things.” He caught the glare you aimed at your tits and sighed. His hands moved, cupping your breasts and just feeling the weight of them. It was something he did almost every day, though this time it wasn’t overtly sexual.

“I knew they were big… Fuck, they barely fit in my hands, but… I never really thought that there might be a downside to that,” Hvitserk mumbled.

“Mm.”

He seemed to be thinking, hands beginning to knead at you gently. You let him; no one could ever deny the magic in Hvitserk’s hands, they were always able to get whatever response he was after from your body. “They are heavy,” he commented after a moment. “I know your shoulders are strong, and you slouch forward when you sit. Is the weight the reason?” Aslaug had mentioned it after the last time he’d had you over for a family dinner. “She’s such a pretty girl, Hvitserk, but you much teach her how to sit properly. She shouldn’t be slouching when she’s seen on your arm.”

“Kind of?” you answered. “The shoulders, I think, but the slouching was first. When they started showing I started wearing baggy clothes and hunching forward to hide them in class, and I guess it kind of… stuck?”

“You shouldn’t hide them,” he declared, squeezing a bit more firmly as though that would prove his argument.

You snorted. “I couldn’t if I wanted to, now, but kids are mean. Ivar was teased for his legs, yes? I was teased for having C-cups in 6th grade. I hated my boobs so much, and it just got worse through high school. Every time they’d get bigger I’d think, ‘this is it, they can’t possibly get worse,’ but then they’d grow again.”

The frustration had leaked back into your voice and Hvitserk had noticed. In an effort to calm you, he nuzzled at you again, beginning to thumb at your nipples through your clothes. “I didn’t know you felt that way, baby. I thought you liked your body?” Hvitserk had made no secret throughout your relationship that your tits were among his favorite of your body parts, and you often went out of your way to wear clothes that would tastefully accentuate them when he’d take you out.

“I do. Well, mostly. It took a long time to accept them. I used to cry every time I’d need new bras because the old ones didn’t fit anymore; that kind of associated stress doesn’t just disappear, you know?”

“Not really,” he answered honestly, “but I’m starting to get my head around it, I think. Talking about it brings the memories, and that triggers the stress?”

“Pretty much.”

“Is the stress from moving making it worse right now?” Hvitserk ventured. He’d figured out a while ago that big changes made you more prone to irritation.

“Fuck, baby, it’s like you know me.”

The sass got you a playful pinch to your nipples, earning a little shriek. “Smartass!” You giggled, trying to squirm away, but he easily maneuvered you into laying under his larger body on the couch, resting your foreheads together and kissing you sweetly. “You know I love you, right Princess?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Do you wanna be done talking about this for now?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay then.” He scooted back between you and the couch, one arm looping around your waist and the other under you so he could hold your breast in his hand again.

“Hvitserk.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you too.”


End file.
